Evil Overlord
by 009
Summary: The rogue Q is drawing Bond into his domain for a desperate battle of wills. Who is he and will either of them make it out alive? This is an AU, based on my previous "Overlord Q" story arc, set in the premise that what if Q wasn't, rogue or not, all that nice?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

This is the Evil version of "Overlord Q". If you do not like the evil, but like the setup, you will love that story!

* * *

"So, you want me to track down a ghost for you?" Those had been the lazy words of Bond to the new M, before all this destruction and the sheer magnitude of the situation had come across; sitting in front of his desk back in an unusually sunny London in their new headquarters.

The instructions were of an unusual kind, but they were straightforward, if challenging. In the aftermath of the Silva scandal, they needed to put their best foot forward with these kinds of situations, and that's where Bond came in.

His brief was to search out the computer master-manipulator known only as Q, and who had only left a very vague trail for them to follow. Eve and Tanner were to back him up back from base, as it was, and his first job was to find the man, then to neutralise the threat.

It had started innocently enough, really. He was prepared with the information that they had noticed someone gaining access to their internal server during the autumn. With the last of the angents of Spectre still out there they wanted him to trace this "ghost", known only as Q.

"Any questions, Bond?" Mallory had asked, looking back at James from his spot behind his desk, performing a task which in James' mind still belonged to M, the real M, sitting there with his back straight and seemingly trying to gauge Bond's reaction, as if expecting he wouldn't be happy with this situation. It was true that he was not, but he was not about to give that away. He would follow orders, if he liked it or not was his perogative.

"No, Sir," Bond replied evenly, noticing easily how Mallory had to hide a sigh at his uncooperative responce, but he did not care. He did not approve of this new protocol and he did not respect M's successor; at least not before he proved himself, and this was not the way to do it. Not to Bond, at least. Of course, Bond was a soldier, and (contrary to popular belief) he could take orders, but jumping when someone said jump and actually trusting them with your life was two entirely separate things.

It is hard to say what Bond would have thought instead, had he known how hard the next few days and weeks would push all of them, what terrible weaknesses would be exposed, but knowing nothing of that, he merely rose to leave the office. And so it began.

James had started the process of tracking the ghost known as Q in Prague, following the only lead he had been made privy to. The chase had been exhausting and demanded the use of all resourcefulness skills he possessed before he could move his search on through half a dozen countries and even more cities, finally setting foot on a small, private island in the Caribbean.

As Bond rather immediately discovered, when first alighting on the island, the computer manipulator known only as Q had built up quite the little empire for himself, not only on his island, but on the web, as well. The man was damned good, there was no doubt about it, and in another life; he would have been quite the powerful ally. Or so they told him; Eve and Tanner, when they found him not quite taking this seriously.

As it was, everything pointed to a man who had not always been treated kindly by the world, being a boffin. Instead of letting it bring him down, he had risen to new heights, only not at the side of good. And now, looking down from a high altitude, he was apparently looking for revenge. And James, 007, Bond was running out of ways in which to stop him as soon as he tried.

He tried to disconnect the man from the web; he had backups. He tried to blow the man's fancy computer lab to smitherines; there were built in defences. He tried to threaten the minions populating the island, but they did not care. He tried to use the minions against their overlord; they did not take the bait. Finally, he tried to seduce the woman second in command, but that was not allowed. Besides; she decidedly refused to be "just another Bondgirl" that one.

Having spent days in this fashion; narrowly avoiding getting caught and going through excursions he really was getting rather too old for now, he finally ran out of ground, ideas and tricks.

That was how he had come to stand there, Walther raised and pointing at the man as the startlingly young "ghost" threatened him what would happen to the world's networks should he die.

Surprisingly enough, as things stood, it all made Bond remember the Goldeneye, and along with other painful memories deeply buried since long, came the thought of the price there sometimes was, for doing the one thing he was really good at. What was not just his job, but his purpose. Complete the mission. Slowly, he moved his finger to the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Mentions of canon violence and angst.

* * *

Bond stood there, gun-hand raised, finger moved to pull back the trigger; seconds passing as the memory of Alec assulted him. The unbidden and long lost memory of his best friend, died by his hand; almost crippling him. All the while that familiar face before him, waiting almost kindly as he struggled with himself. This forbidden memory, brought on by this situation, in far too many ways far too alike that dreadful day.

Finally Bond pulled himself together, soon enough that the man before him might not have realised anything was even the matter, had he not known all there was to know about him in so many ways; his entire file in intimate detail, for one thing. Here, again, he was up against someone who knew his weaknesses; and though it was not, it felt uncomfortably alike deja vu.

Just as he moved to go through with it despite the threats and the pain that was _not_ real, not this time, not really a friend going rogue, there was a slightly too loud shout heard in his earpiece, almost making him flinch. "Bond! Don't take the shot. I repeat, we need the man alive! You cannot kill him! We have reports of our computer systems going haywire. You cannot kill the man!" Tanner's voice in the earpiece was slightly panicked. Too much; had he, too, lost track of the bigger picture here?

"Can't you fix it yourselves?" Bond growled, but of course they couldn't hear him. He had already lost that gear, falling into the ocean two days earlier. The saltwater hadn't been good for any of the tech.

It didn't seem to be needed, however, as Tanner answered him anyway. "He has planted some kind of malware. We don't know how it works. We will try and fix it, but in case we can't, and without a Quartermaster... you simply can not shoot the man, Bond! I know keeping him alive is dangerous too, but you're just going to have to keep him distracted!"

Putting the safety back on his Walther with the ease of habit, James Bond was aware he was running out of options in this, fast. As such, clearly still affected by his untimely flashback, he did the only thing he could think of; his one and only, timeless classic when it came to diversions. He strode up to the frozen computer genius, grabbed him by the front of his cardigan, and kissed him; hard.

What he didn't expect; and he truly had no idea what the other man would do (he hadn't had the time to think that far), was for the genius to melt into the kiss like Bond was water and he was drowning. While unexpected, the double oh could certainly work with that. Perhaps, they'd all survive this, despite everything. Then again, Bond thought distantly as the computer wiz pushed him down against the sundeck, far too close to the pool, and proceeded to kiss him hungrily, they might not.

Bond allowed himself to be lowered onto the deck, shifting as he narrowly avoided falling into the pool, the water even wetting one of the lapels of his suit jacket; his hands still busy with holding the other man hard. He didn't want to let him go, although the kissing was certainly a bit much, in that respect.

Then, suddenly, the much smaller man shifted off of him, able to do so only because the agent wasn't attempting to restrain, foolishly, Bond cursed himself, not expecting the move; and the next moment he held Bond's own gun to the double oh's temple. "You, Mr Bond, are predictable."

The agent narrowed his eyes, watching the other man's body language closely. Q's hand was not entirely steady, but it was steady enough. "What do you expect? For me to die? To fall at your feet? For me to talk?" James heart was beating steadily, but his mouth was going dry. He was rapidly losing all control, already had, and he felt like he was drowning.

"No, Mr Bond," Q replied, a wicked smile at his face, though his eyes were decidedly kind, "I expect you to die." And smoothly, because he was genius enough not to wait for the hero to be saved during the supervillain speech, he unhesitantly pulled the trigger.

At that distance, not even someone who had never before held a gun in their life could have missed, and Q was not such a person. He built them, after all; knew them in more intimate detail than anyone, even someone who was, in essence, a weapon themselves. Bond went down without any other sound than the echo of the sound of the gun.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own the Bond movies or books.

Warnings: Mentions of violence. Also triggers, mentions of canon character death, PTSD, betrayal and Pierce Brosnan movies.

Here comes the end... and the rule of Q.

* * *

"007, report!" Tanner's voice was slightly panicked, as he met the eyes of Eve and Mallory. They had heard a shot and then lost contact with Bond.

Eve, somewhat irrationally, imagined blood splashed everywhere and remembered the horror of when she herself shot Bond. "Bond, report! What's happened?!"

Walking beside the pool, casually stepping over the still body of Bond, Q picked up and activated a laptop. "This is Q. You've lost, that's what's happened. Your agent is dead." In the ensuing silence, Q's victorious laughter could be heard. Finally he gathered himself and noted softly. "It seems should I ever go rogue, I will do quite nicely. I might consider it if the weather stays so poor."

"Q, you nearly gave us a heart attack!" Eve burst out. "War games are not supposed to be worse than actual missions. I trust you didn't really kill Bond?" She sounded like she was doubting it, at this point.

"No, no, he's breathing," the computer genius assured her, using the laptop to casually log back in and reset his systems from his little trick. It honoured him that he did not add "much as when you shot him" or something to that respect.

"Jesus," Tanner muttered. "Who came up with the idea of this drill, anyway?" Mallory looked pointedly out the window; guilty as charged. They then heard the splash when Bond tossed the Quartermaster into the pool. Seems he wasn't amused, either, but to be fair; he did help fish him out again, pointedly ignoring the jibe from Eve, later on over the coms of; "really James, a kiss? What, were you running out of ideas?"

"I am not holding it against you, you know," James looked up at Q, where they sat in the shade almost an hour later, scenario officially complete. "You frooze. There were no cameras, I assure you, and no one else with us. I won't tell anyone, either. I get it. You don't have to tell me, but I'd like you to, if you can; what did you see? _Who_ did you see? Was it..." he hesitated, not knowing if he was allowed to say that name. Or to even _know_ it. It was before his time; long, long before his time, after all.

Bond sighed. "Holding a gun to another friend's head... maybe I am getting old; maybe I really _am_ growing soft. I know it was not the same thing, I just couldn't... _couldn't_! Not again," his sigh was deeper this time. Q smiled sadly where he sat wrapped in a blanket after getting wet, placing a hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to remind him he was not alone in this any longer.

"Easily could have been. This wasn't real; but we _made_ it real. _I_ made it far too real," the Quartermaster spoke softly, but urgently; with conviction. "There's no shame in your mind not being able to see the difference, James. Not in mourning for a friend, regretting terrible events or to balk at betrayal, either. You are only a human, Seven," he smiled kindly, adding the nickname the other double ohs used. "Be proud of that, after all you've gone through." As another, even more familiar person turned up by the house, walking towards them, the Quartermaster added, carefully withdrawing his hand; "I will not tell anyone, like I promised, not unless you ask me to, but you should tell _her._ " Bond only shrugged in responce.

Coming up to them now, was the "right hand" of the "Evil Overlord"; or at any rate the woman who had been playing that part. Madeleine was smiling, as she joined them, but her expression quickly changed to concern at seeing her husband's expression. "What's wrong?"

Looking to James, who was silent, but nodded his consent nevertheless, at the same time as he was accepting Madelaine into his lap, wrapping his arms around her, Q took his que. "James had a flashback," he explained to the private contractor. "Holding a gun to my head was not..."

"I thought it was just loaded with blanks?" Madeleine looked even more concerned, turning around slightly to glance at the silent, still James, who was holding her almost as if he was afraid to let go.

"It was," Q assured her, focusing her attention back at him, as she was plenty clever enough to realise she'd get no answers from the older man, though she stroked his arm comfortingly as she listened to their colleague. "However, it triggered memories. For him. You see..." He looked to James for permission, not wanting to recount those old events in any kind of entirety without being allowed to, and recieved a tired, resigned nod as his only responce. "There was an incident; back when you and I were in diapers, really, with something called the Goldeneye." Another look at James' face showed he was far away, likely back in the past.

"We had a mole; it was a rogue agent," Madeleine listened with a deep frown on her face. "He was called Alec," Q paused at the expression of pain on Bond's face, but the man waved him on. "Alec Trevelyan. He was a traitor. He was also James' best friend."

"And I killed him." The agent's voice was rough, and a lesser man would have been crying. Perhaps an even better man would have been, too.

"That's not fair, James, and you know it," Q argued. "You fought and he fell. It was not your fault."

"Oh, but it was. So much of that were my fault," James sighed, burying his face to Madeleine's side, grateful that only the two people the world he trusted the most; amongst the living, anyway; was there to see him this vulnerable.

"Oh sweetheart." Madeleine turned, kissing the side of his head, "you've got so much baggage, don't you. Let's go home; you need a break. Maybe this time, we'll stay lost a few months longer."

"Go ahead; all my inventions lasts so much longer when James is persumed dead or has gone off with you," Q attempted to lighten the mood, getting one grateful and one pale smile in return. "You two be off; I'll make your excuses."

"Thank you Q. For everything." Madeleine smiled as she rose and pulled James hand to make him come, too, something he willingly complied to. Blowing Q a kiss as she led James Bond into the sunset, Madeleine Bond took her lover straight to her private yatch, anchored down at the beach. Yes, this time, they'd stay lost a good long while. At least.


End file.
